The Lion and the Serpent
by Firefly Lantern1
Summary: postponed indefinitely.
1. Chapter 1

Author Note: This is a Draco/Hermione story. (Don't you just love bad boys paired with brainy girls?) The events take place during their 7th year as Heads of House. No HBP stuff here except for implied references to Draco's grooming to become Voldie's heir. 

Brief Summary--Hermione is the perfect pick for Head Girl. Rumor has it Draco bought his way into being Head Boy. Either way, these two have to spend their 7th year sharing not only a bathroom and common room, but also planning duties for Dumbledore's torturous 'inner-house harmony' schemes. Sparks, spells, and insults fly. Masks are worn; deceptions are woven. Where does fantasy end and truth begin? And what the heck happened to Neville Longbottom over the summer? He's looking kind of cute this year…

Rating: For language and sensuality (kissie kissie face stuff in this chapter)

Disclaimer: The fabulous JK Rowling is goddess of the HP universe. I just wrote this story, 'tis all.

The Lion and the Serpent

_Chapter One: _

Hermione Granger tentatively stood outside the cabin door and noted how pretentious it was to have a talking gold plaque announcing the cabin was for the Head Girl and Head Boy only. Usually, the Heads of class and the prefects shared a cabin, but apparently, the school wanted to try something different this year. Hermione thought it was somewhat ridiculous to make a special cabin just for two people. The extra attention made her somewhat uncomfortable.

"You there! Are you the Head Girl? Don't slouch! Answer me, girl!" If the Plaque had eyes, Hermione would have said it looked at her suspiciously. But, it was only an enchanted plaque with a snappy mouth and enough attitude to fill all the seats on the Hogwarts Express.

"I am" Hermione replied politely, pointing to the special pin adoring the front of her crème colored hoodie. Of course, what good did showing her pin do if the plaque couldn't even see it? "Uh… I suppose I have to say the password, right?"

"If you please, Miss." The Plaque smiled gently, warming to Hermione's friendly charm.

"Gramblefant." The auburn-haired girl said in a self-conscious whisper.

"Ah, yes! In you go! Welcome, Miss Hermione Granger! Head Girl of Hogwarts! The Queen of Quills! The Princess of Parchment! Gem of the House of Gryffindor! Jewel of—"

Hermione rushed into the cabin and quickly closed the door. She hoped the hallway was empty so no one could hear the plaque's fountain of embarrassing, rambling praises. She sighed and gingerly rubbed at a knot of tension forming in her forehead. Eyes closed, she sunk into the red velvet cushion of the empty bench seat. A chilling feeling slithered over her neck and down her back. She tensed in alertness and opened her eyes to see a cruel twist of fate sitting on the bench across from her.

"Malfoy?" Hermione gasped. Her eyes widened in shock and horror as she noted Malfoy's tall frame stretched like a lazy bridge across the twin bench seats. His hands clasped confidently behind his head and he idly re-crossed his long legs. "I thought Edward Merrick from Ravenclaw was picked to be the Head Boy. How did you--?" Her brain could not process how Draco Malfoy, her sworn and most hated enemy, sat so confidently and coolly in front of her.

"Edward **_was_** picked, but only because of an error in grade calculation. I am the **_true _**Head Boy." The arrogant words dripped softly from his aristocratic mouth. His gaze remained fixed on the darkened landscape beyond the rain-slicked glass of the cabin window. Hermione protectively moved her large carry-on bag closer to her side, making a small barrier between her and the vile evil known as Draco Malfoy.

"In other words, your father threatened, maimed, and murdered until you were 'chosen'. Or did he decide to generously fund a brand-new wing in the library with the stipulation that you be named Head Boy?" Her eyes narrowed dangerously, pinning him in place.

"My father had nothing to do with this. I am capable of attaining things without using my family's name, influence, or great wealth." He sneered the last word at her just to make sure Hermione didn't forget how poor and worthless she was in his eyes. "I am my own man." He replied coldly, the corner of his top lip curling into a twitchy snarl. All in all, it was a pretty civil response that lacked his usual smattering of 'mudblood' this and 'pureblood' that. Hermione guessed he was saving all of his prejudiced filth-talk for a better time. Malfoy was smart to use his insults sparsely, considering he only had about four—total-- in his verbal arsenal.

Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation. While she rummaged through her bag for Ginny's borrowed copy of _Madams OoGey, Boogii, and Boo's Grimoire of Advanced Hexes for Advanced Witches, _she couldn't resist taking a secret peek at Malfoy... Not that he was attractive or eye-catching, of course. Though Hermione was apathetic and annoyed as far as fashion was concerned, she could tell his clothes cost a pretentious amount of money. Apparently, he had inherited his mother's taste in outrageously over-priced fashion. Narcissa Malfoy was an anorexic-looking, over-medicated little cloud of blond hair, ice-sparkling diamonds, and fluffy white mink coats. She was the kind of woman who would wear a dazzling sequined evening gown to the grocery store, that is, if she didn't have a team of servants to shop and cook for her. Malfoy's clothes had the same kind of showiness to them, expressed in a deceptively understated style. His slate gray pants were immaculately pressed and wrinkle-free. The collar and cuffs of his crisp white dress shirt, decorated with a faint gray pinstripe, peeked from underneath his hunter green sweater. The dark material was soft, creamy cashmere. Hermione resisted the urge to gag. Draco's hair was longer than the last time she'd seen it. He wore the now shoulder-length platinum strands in a neat ponytail. Altogether, he was a menacing combination of sharp lines and edges as crisp as new Muggle paper money: a miniature Lucius Malfoy. Shaking her head and doing her best to ignoreLucius Jr., Hermione opened the grimoire to her previously marked page and continued reading about the Sdrawkcab Hex—a quaint little enchantment used to make someone speak completely in reverse. Ginny had underlined the name of hex in glittery purple ink and added the personal note, 'This works great with the Babbling Curse!'. Apparently, combining the hex and the curse made the victim speak a backward combination of Jibberish, Rabbit French, and Swedish. Hermione chuckled bemusedly to herself. Malfoy's head snapped in her direction; his cold gray eyes narrowed suspiciously. A resounding knock at the door interrupted the comment he was about to make.

"It's the food cart! I've got special deliveries for the Head Boy and Girl!" A tall raven-haired woman dressed in an attractive red uniform poked her head through the doorway. She smiled brightly. "Kissing creams, chocolate frogs, treacle tongues, licorice wands, raspberry razzers, and acid pops for Mr. Malfoy." A box decorated ornately in the colors of the Slytherin house levitated from the cart and landed in Draco's hands. He hesitantly lifted the lid.

"CONGRATULATIONS, DRACO!" The box cheered, exploding long curls of silver and green streamers into the air. A satisfied smile touched his cold mouth.

"And what do I have for Ms. Granger?" The raven-haired woman hmmmed theatrically. "Ah, yes … Fizzy puffbuttons, vanilla warts with candy floss hair, chocolate frogs, orange ogre boils, licorice wands, treacle tongues, cauldron cakes, kissing creams, acid pops, Bertie Bott's Every-Flavor beans," The woman took a breath and continued, "Grimmie's giant gumballs, Marshmallow full moons, and unrequited bleedinghearts..." The box floating toward Hermione boasted the proud burgundy and gold colors of the Gryffindor house. She bit her lip and gently pried the lid upward with a delicate finger.

"HERMIONE IS THE BEST! YES OH YES! THE BEST! THEEEEEEEE BEST!" Her box did not cheer. It sang. Grandly. And showered burgundy and gold confetti hearts into the air. The cloud of little hearts froze mid-air to form the shape of a larger heart. Hermione gasped; the attendant oohed and aahed in delight. Not only was Hermione's box bigger, but it was also a shameless show-off. Malfoy seemed to simmer quietly.

"These goodies are from your friends, dears. Notes attached. Be sure to have a wonderful year!" The woman smiled and the cabin door shut obediently behind her. The enchanted streamers and confetti vanished in a poof of indigo smoke. Hermione eagerly picked through her stash, carefully taking inventory of who sent what. The note attached to a squelchy bag of unrequited bleedinghearts caught her attention:

"My Dearest Ms. Granger:

I can no longer hide my true feelings. I love you

from the bottom of my shriveled black heart. Remember,

Beloved—my sneers are signs of my purest affection and

unwavering adoration for you.

Twenty-five points from Gryffindor,

S. Snape.

(Yours truly and sincerely.)

Thankfully, Hermione recognized the handwriting as Harry's. She did her best to remain composed and straight-faced, but failed completely. Caring less whether Draco watched, Hermione erupted into a slight fit of giggles. Trying to picture Snape sneering adoringly was just too much to handle; she laughed harder the more she thought about it. Hermione glanced up in time to notice Draco watching her with distant gray eyes.

"I've never seen you so happy in my presence before." Draco said thoughtfully. His head tilted casually to the side as he studied her.

"Imagine that. How is it possible? You're such a nice, pleasant person to be around." Hermione cooed sarcastically. In actuality, though, Draco was the most evil and despicable person she ever had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting. And yet… Her sworn mortal enemy was behaving … civilly. Frankly, a pleasant Draco disconcerted her more than a snarling, growling, meticulously-plotting-your-hideously-pain-filled-demise Draco.

"Maybe I've changed over the summer, Granger." He shrugged, his voice nonchalant.

"Yeah, and I'm the Slytherin Heir." Hermione hissed and shot him a patronizing frown. "I know you, Draco. You are a spoiled whiney prat who doesn't have the slightest idea of what true honor and integrity is. The only thing you know is how to hurt and embarrass those who are weaker and less fortunate. Oh, and I forgot about your uncanny ability to fake injuries and milk all the sympathy you can out of them." She said in obvious disdain.

"What do you know, Mudblood?" Draco cursed violently under his breath. "What the HELL do YOU know about me!"

"I know enough to realize I don't like you in the least." Hermione snipped. "You think you are so much better than everyone because you have a so-called 'pureblood' pedigree. As far as I know, pedigrees only matter in dog and pony shows." The words scathed hotly from her tongue. "Sirius was the only good apple to fall from the diseased tree you call the honorable family lineage of Black."

"How dare you!" Draco snarled, sitting up in seat with the savage speed of an uncoiling cobra. "You! A filthy diseased little git with mud in her veins?" His face suddenly became coolly smug and self-satisfied. He quirked a disinterested, refined eyebrow and delivered his intended insult with commendable aplomb: "But your ire makes sense, Mudblood. Only a mangy bitch would covet the pedigree of a purebred dog." Malfoy was too busy basking in the glory of his wit to notice Hermione sneak her wand from the kangaroo front pocket of her hoodie.

"Cannis yippis!" She hissed the words softly between her clenched teeth; she flicked her wand in the 'loop-poke-slash' formation required for the transfiguration spell. When the eerily beautiful shower of magical silver and blue twinkles cleared, only a small white tuft of a dog remained on the seat where Draco sat. "Yes, Draco? What were you saying about purebred dogs…?" Leaning closer to the transfigured Malfoy, Hermione smiled pleasantly.

Draco's tail drooped pitifully between his legs and he began to shiver like a leaf caught in a cool autumn breeze. The sound he made wasn't a whimper or a whine--it was more of a sad little cry. _He's such a cute little puppy_, Hermione thought somewhat affectionately, though she was more of a cat person.

"Consider yourself lucky. Every respectable diva and starlet in Muggle America has a miniature dog tucked under her arm like a miniature barking handbag." Hermione said matter-of-factly. "Your mother can be the first to bring the trend to the pureblood wizarding world. You're probably already used to being paraded around like a beloved little pet."

Draco bared his teeth and growled as menacingly as he could, considering he was small enough to be stuffed into a breadbox. He attempted to leap menacingly at Hermione, but his courage was bigger than the distance he could jump. Upon reflex, Hermione edged forward in her seat and caught him soundly in her arms. He wriggled and made a big fuss about not wanting to be held. He even tried to nip her nose when she looked him in the face and began talking to him in a clear, calm voice.

"Stop it. I would like you to listen to me for a moment while I talk to you. All right? You can call me a Mudblood, an infestation, and a blight upon the purity of the world until your face turns as blue as your blood. But no matter what snively insults come out of your mouth, this Mudblood has higher marks than you and will always be more powerful when it comes to magic. My parents are Muggle dentists and our family car is a 12-year-old navy blue Volvo. So what? The more you remind me of my 'tainted' and humble roots, the more you remind me of what I am thankful for. Your pedigree means nothing to me, and you mean nothing to me. You've treated me horribly and cruelly for six hellishly long years, Malfoy. You've hurt Ron; you've hurt Harry. I'm sick of it, and I won't put up with it for another school term…"

Draco yawned opulently, his pink tongue curling sweetly in his small mouth.

Sighing in resignation, Hermione placed him on the floor and cast a counter spell. This time, the shower of colored twinkles dissipated to reveal young Draco Malfoy (dressed in his outrageously expensive clothes) kneeling humbly on all fours in the middle of the cabin floor. He sprang to his feet and brushed himself off with the angered huff of outraged loathing.

"No one has ever treated me this way...! You'll regret it, Granger. Mark my words."

'Marking them." Hermione deadpanned. She held out a hesitant hand to help Malfoy up from the floor. He frowned; Hermione thought he was going to bite her. Instead, he surprised her and accepted her offer. As he brushed imaginary dust from his knees and elbows, Hermione continued, "Listen, I'm sorry I turned you into a dog. Not **_very_** sorry--because you did deserve it--but that's beside the point. I refuse to spend my last year of Hogwarts stuck in mortal combat with you; I am sick and tired of your horribly prejudiced attitude and your blatantly belittling snobbery. I have much better things to do with my time than bicker with you or be on the receiving end of one of your immature'mudblood' tirades."

"Malfoys do not tirade. Hysterical women tirade." Draco sniffed and raised his chin in defiance.

"And the difference between the two is...?" Hermione did not back down.

"You may be the better spell-caster, witch, but I'm still bigger, stronger, and better looking than you." His face was so close; she could feel his breath fanning her cheeks.

"Better looking?" Hermione's disbelieving laugh came as a short snort. "What does that have to do with anything?" She glanced up into the said better-looking face, forgetting for the moment that he was probably homicidal. "What? Are you going to make goo-goo pretty-boy pureblood faces at me until I melt into a helpless twitter of girlie giggles? … Yeah, who needs the 'Avada' when **_you_** have the dreaded 'pouty-lip face of doom'?" She feigned terror at Draco's expense. "Maybe that sort of tawdry stuff works with Slytherin wenches, but we Gryffindor _ladies _are made of smarter stuff."

"You may be smart, but you're easily swept off your unsuspecting feet…" Draco purred, his eyes glinting with dry amusement. He whipped his wand from his back pocket and deftly shouted "Expelliarmus!" as Hermione struggled to point her wand at him. Her wand flew from her grasp and landed softly on the red-velvet seat cushion. Before she could wind back a fist and sock him in the face—old-school medieval style--Draco cast a jelly-leg jinx. Her strong stance crumbled; her legs wobbled uncontrollably beneath her. She would have fallen had Draco not wrapped his arms around her, forcing her to hold onto him for dear life.

"Malfoy!" Hermione screamed; her hazel eyes widened wildly as he pulled her tightly against his body. Her groping fingers dug into the soft cashmere of his sweater. She could feel the muscled hardness of his back beneath the material. Hermione questioningly blinked up at him.

"Careful, Granger. You don't want to leave fingernail marks. I'd have a rough time explaining them to Pansy…" Draco nuzzled his nose against Hermione's neck and whispered the words seductively in her ear. Repulsed, she grimaced. Her hands curled into claws as she dug her fingernails into his shoulder blades as hard as she could clench her fingers. Draco's smile widened.

"Ooh. Never would have pictured you as the kinky type, Granger. I guess it's always the quiet, studious ones who have the best surprises."

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Hermione growled as one of Draco's fingers slowly traced along the shell of her ear. He seemed idly oblivious to the rage of her anger. "Stop that! What the hell are you doing?" She huffed and she jerked her head away from his touch. Draco's hand didn't return to her ear. Instead, he began to thoughtfully stroke the smooth drape of her auburn hair.

"When did this happen?" He asked, almost civilly, as he wisped the curled end of a stray lock across her nose. Hermione crinkled her face against the ticklish sensation and sighed.

"Over the summer. Some friends of mine introduced me to the magic of enchanted hair care." She replied simply. Those 'friends' were Fred and George Weasley. The clever, concocting twins brewed the hair-taming potion especially for her, but sneakily forgot to mention it would leave her dark brown hair with an ever-so-slight reddish tint. Red was the Weasley trademark, of course, so Hermione didn't mind the color. It did wonderful things for her complexion, but she (an only child) secretly loved the color because it made her feel as if she was part of the large, loving Weasley family. Hermione's hair, now tamed and free of frizzy knots, hung neatly down her back.

"Are you finished contemplating my split ends? Or is there a point to this?" Hermione narrowed her eyes at Draco. A lazy smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Charm, my dear Granger, is its own weapon." The hushed tone of his voice blurred the sharp angles of his face. The glimmer of humanity was gone as quickly as it came. Draco resumed his mask of practiced indifference. "I bet you've never had a proper kiss." He said with cruel detachment, smoothing his pale hand across her forehead.

"I--!" Hermione started to protest, but he silenced her by shaking his head.

"No. That unibrowed brick—Krum—doesn't count. Neither does the Weasel King or The-Boy-Who-Whined. They know nothing about women or how to bring them pleasure." Draco smiled amusedly as Hermione's cheeks flushed bright pink. "I'm leaving you with a mark that won't leave an outward scar, but will burn within you as if it were branded in fire. You, Hermione Granger, will know what exquisite pleasure is … only to have it ripped from you. I will never be yours, and you will suffer..."

"Riiight..." Hermione replied blandly to conceal the frantic beating of her heart. 'You can't use magic to make me love you. It simply won't work and I doubt you have the skills to properly execute a love spell anyway."

"Who said anything about love or a spell?" He sneered the words at her. "I'm talking about something much more… basic. This is a Malfoy specialty." He gave her a confident grin as he traced the crook of her neck with his fingertips. He gently tipped her chin upward and kissed her forehead. An electric jolt of shock and excitement shot unexpectedly through Hermione as she caught the masculine scent of his cologne. It had sensuously appealing notes that reminded Hermione of a starless night in some dark, forested place. Draco did his best to confuse and jumble her senses. His warm lips placed light kisses along her brow and eyelids; his hand enchantingly stroked the back of her neck.

"Ack! What the hell…? Stop that! Yuck, I know where those lips have been—kissing Pansy Parkinson. Besides, aren't you two dating? I'd hate to have to tell her about your little escapade here. She'd hex your manhood into next Thursday…"

"Into next Friday, actually. Pansy's the psychotically jealous type." Draco casually corrected Hermione's insult and pulled her closer against him. The full feel of his body put her into a slight panic.

"You're going to befoul your pureblood lips by kissing a lowly Muggle-born? What would your Slytherin friends say? Or is it fashionable nowadays for the rich and mighty to go 'slumming'?". Hermione ignored the myriad of new sensations swirling in her stomach and warming her chest. The closeness of him was intoxicating somehow. The intimate contact of their intertwined bodies was more intense than anything she'd ever experienced before. Was this what it meant to be properly kissed? She started taking mental notes.

"I've been kissed before, Malfoy. It's just lips touching lips." Hermione defended, trying to act more calm than she felt. "And I'm physically repulsed by you. The only thing I desperately want is for you to leave me alone."

Draco replied by taking his sweet time in pressing warm kisses along the length of her exposed neck and jawline. Still holding her close, he used his free hand to cup her face and brush a stray strand of hair from her eyes. Had any random passer-by seen them, Draco and Hermione would seem to be lost in the convincing roles of a young couple fully consumed by love. However, this was not the case. Fully aware of his crafted artifice, Draco smiled as a lover would smile and kissed Hermione as if he were indeed her lover.

"Malfoy—" Hermione struggled against the onslaught of his kiss, but he gently took her lower lip between his teeth and stole her breath away. She clung desperately to him—unable to think or breathe. Hermione had been kissed before… But all of those few times lacked the passion and confidence that Malfoy possessed.

"If I close my eyes… You couldbe anyone…" Hermione whispered tauntingly. Cruelly biting fingers captured her chin, forcing her eyes open to meet his intense steel gaze.

"No. You won't think about Weasel or Potter." His resolve was firm. "I want you to realize this is the best you'll ever have, Granger. This is as good as it gets for a lowly mudblood like yourself." At his words, Hermione's jaw clenched. She knew he hated her and that she likewise despised him. This was all a game of illusions—a wicked masquerade. Why not play along, drown in his lies, and play the part he wanted her to take?

"Oh, Draco…How thoughtful of you..." Hermione whispered his name, arching her body against him and burying her face in the crook of his neck. She nuzzled him with her chin and ran the sides of her head against his jaw so the silky softness of her hair brushed along his sensitive skin. Draco, who had been too stunned to react, took a steadying breath to regain his composure. He smirked in self-satisfaction and slowly moved to kiss Hermione once more.

However, he wasn't expecting the tight, bony-knuckled fist that slammed into his stomach with enough force to make him gasp and double over. Hermione pushed him away as she crumpled to the floor with a 'thump'. While Draco heaved and coughed, she managed to crawl to the seat cushion and retrieve her wand. She murmured the counter-jinx and had her wand adeptly poised when he looked up at her with wide eyes.

"That's the second time today I've brought a Malfoy to his knees. I think I'm beginning to enjoy this." Hermione quipped as Draco sneered malevolently.

"No no NO! You don't have the password, so you can't come in. YOU aren't the heads of house, are you? You are just the prefects!" The Plaque's high shriek of indignation shattered the tension between Draco and Hermione.

"Let us in, you sodding piece of tin!" Pansy Parkinson screamed at the ornate golden plaque mounted on the door. "Draco? Drake? It's Pansy! Tell this lousy doorknocker to let us in. We want to patrol now so we can sit wherever we want for the rest of the train ride." She pouted in a somewhat whiney voice. She often acted like ahelpless little girl so Malfoy would take charge and be her big, strong man. Pansy was completely dependent upon him.

"Drake…?" Hermione echoed Pansy's adoring tone and quirked and eyebrow. A slight blush pinched Draco's ears. His face instantly tightened with impatient annoyance. He jumped to his feet and self-consciously tidied his hair. "Uh, Plaque, would you please let the prefects enter the cabin? I'd greatly appreciate it, thanks." Hermione called out, speaking loud enough so her voicecarried through the door to the hallway.

"Now there's the Gem of Hogwarts! Such a mannered lady. Unlike yourself, you pig-faced slut!" The Plaque sniped at Pansy. Hermione's eyes widened in slight horror as the door flung open and the prefects avalanched into the room.

"Erm, don't mind the Plaque. She's a bit, er, opinionated." Hermione's smile was wide and slightly embarrassed. She had an attractive flush to her face and her lips were slightly swollen from Draco's kisses.

"Yes! She's delightful." Ginny giggled. Pansy pouted and flung herself at Draco for comfort. His entire body stiffed in instinctive recoil, but he eventually snaked an obligated arm around her waist and half-heartedly patted her raven black hair. Suddenly, Hermione felt like 'the other woman'. What right did Malfoy have to go around kissing other girls when he was in a relationship with Pansy? A sense of guilt and shame struck Hermione. Even though she disliked Pansy, she felt that no girl--even the most evil and petulant--deserved to have an snake for a boyfriend. She tactfully avoided making eye contact with Malfoy and turned her attention to the prefects. She was glad Harry and Ginny were the Gryffindor picks this year—their friendly faces were such a dearly needed comfort now.

"I'll change into my robes later." Hermione shrugged, glancing down at her flattering but casual attire. "All right then. I suggest we pair up and tackle the train in sections. Slytherins and Ravenclaws can take the front while the rest of us take the back. Any questions?"

"Yes. Aren't you and I—the Heads of House--supposed to patrol together?" Draco drawled knowingly.

"Uh--" Hermione made a slight sound of protest. Pansy giggled at Hermione's discomfort, and Harry--in turn--glared at Pansy.

"Hmmm, didn't the official congratulation letter from Dumbledore say something about us working together… Didn't you read that part?" Malfoy questioned innocently. His friend and fellow Slytherin, Blaise, snickered openly. Ginny shot them both a look of revulsion.

"I read it perfectly." Hermione grimaced. Oh, Merlin. She would never be rid of Malfoy. Taking a moment to steady herself, Hermione said quickly, "Let's all make this the fastest patrol in history, okay?" She grabbed her wand from the seat cushion and exited the cabin with her head held high and her steps firm.

"There she goes! Hermione Granger—the Tzarina of Transfiguration! The Duchess of Defense Against the Dark Arts! The Countess of Conjuring! The Champion of Charms!" The Plaque cheered adoringly as Hermione stomped farther down the corridor. "Oh. And Draco Malfoy. Eeehhhh…" The Plaque suddenly lost all interest and enthusiasm when Draco walked through the doorway a few seconds later. Hermione couldn't help but smile.

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	2. The Slytherin Prince's Crown

Author Note: Big thanks and showers of confetti to all those who reviewed! Special thanks to WashAway the Rain--technically the first reviewer of the story... I accidentally uploaded the wrong version of chapter one and had to delete it and start over. So big thanks to everyone who reviewed, including thosewho aren't shown on the review board. **:o)**

Also, I'm messing with the Potterverse: I want the character to be older. Hermione is about 19 and Draco is 20. I know this isn't canon, but I really don't think the actions/situations in the story would be believable for 15-year-olds. I want a more mature romance than "_Liek OMG_! Your 2 cute!". So hang please hang in there with me. Thanks muchly.

Rating:Mild language, some sensuality. In this chapter, Draco has a bit of a bad mouth.

Disclaimer: The fabulous JK Rowling is goddess of the HP universe. I just wrote this story, 'tis all.Oh, and P.S. This chapter was written on Wordpad! Gah for no spellchecker! So please  
excuse any errant spelling errors. Thankies and enjoy!

* * *

_In the Slytherin compartment on the Hogwarts Express…_

"I can't believe goody-goody Dumbledore would enchant something so rude! What an obnoxious plaque! I bet it's still singing Horrible Hermione Granger's praises when it should be snickering about her disaster of a hair color! She could be part of the Weasley lot now. Like those paupers need another mouth to feed!" Pansy cackled nastily, tucking an errant strand of black hair behind her large ear. Goyle nodded loyally and Crabbe shoved another cauldron cake into his already-full mouth. Pansy turned to Draco, impatiently patting his thigh. "Don't you agree, Sweetums?" Her eyelashes fluttered like hyperactive butterflies.

"Yeah, Pans." Draco managed a nice-enough smile. What exactly had he agreed to? He hadn't been paying much attention to her catty, high-pitched ranting. His attention had wandered off when she screeched the words _Hermione Granger_".

Granger…

Today, he'd shocked himself. He planned to rile and unnerve Granger, maybe even annoy her. Draco had no idea he would practically throw her against a wall and kiss her senseless. It was a agreeable change of events. If he hadn't pushed Granger so far, he'd never have discovered the fiery-eyed demi-goddess hidden beneath her mousy exterior. She was a hexing whirlwind of tussled hair and flushed cheeks when she lost her temper. In other words, she was irresistible.

So what if he kissed her? Bloody hell, he was a hot-blooded male and Granger had blossomed nicely over the summer. Her teeth finally suited her face and the heavy length of her long hair pulled her unruly curls into soft waves. It didn't hurt that she seemed to be taking more pride in her appearance. For the last six years, she looked as if her morning routine consisted of rolling out of bed and picking out whichever robes were the most wrinkled. Maybe her choice in clothes would be all right if she holed herself up in the dusty bowels of the library forever… but she was Head Girl this year. As Head Boy, Draco felt it only fair that his Head Girl be as attractive as possible: _he _was the one who would be seeing the most of her, considering he'd be sharing a common room, a bathroom and Head duties with her. Thankfully, Granger was rather fetching…for a Mudblood.

Instantly, Draco bit his tongue as if he'd spoken the thought aloud. Calling Granger a Mudblood was the kind of thing his ratbastard, ass-kissing father would do. He had taught Draco to say _Mudblood_, but he could never teach him how to feel comfortable sneering it at Granger. It never felt right… Draco's nostrils flared in rebellion.

He could think for himself--he refused to be a mindless servant to Lucius Malfoy and his beloved half-blood dark lord. Draco's excuse for not wanting to be a Death Eater was simple. He'd been taught since birth to hate Muggle-borns and anyone not of pureblood ancestry. By serving a half-blood dark lord with a 'thing' against Muggle-borns, Draco would be catering to the pathetic hang-ups of a dark wizard who was too weak to carry through with his own petty plans.

Denying _him_ wasn't such and easy or casual thing: it was impossible. As much as Draco wanted to be his own man, it would never happen. He'd been pampered and spoiled his entire life until he'd entered Hogwarts. Until then, he was given anything his heart desired--money, clothes, rare magical items, his own personal staff of house elves… Anything. Draco felt that he, the only son of a wealthy pureblood family, was entitled to the finer things in life simply because he was born. Little did he know that one day, the dark  
forces would ask a hefty price in return for grooming him to become Lord Voldermort's heir. They demanded his undying, total loyalty to their cause--one he didn't believe in.

The crown of king was too heavy for the youthful brow of the Slytherin Prince. This Christmas break, a magical branding of the Dark Mark would seal his fate. His father set the initiation date long before his sorry ass landed in Azkaban, and it couldn't be broken. His mother's desperate pleas had done nothing to sway the obsessive minds of his Aunt Bellatrix and Uncle Rudolphus. With the Ceremony looming somewhere in the foggy ethers of the future, why shouldn't he kiss Granger while he still had the free will to do what he wanted?

"…Drake? Sweetums, the train stopped. We're here." Pansy gently touched Draco's shoulder. Her nose wrinkled as she shot him an annoyed frown. "What is it? Did you catch a disease from that awful Hermione Granger?" Her hand instantly went to his forehead, searching for signs of clamminess and fever. "You look pale."

"So what else is new? Draco's not one to have color in his cheeks. He's downright ghoulish." Goyle smiled at his friend. "It's what makes him so scary."

"Yeah! Stop smotherin' him, Pansy. He's probably thinkin' up something vile to do to Potter and his friends this year, seein' as he's Head Boy…" Crabbe laughed. Pansy sneered. Goyle nodded dumbly. Draco wanted to Avada himself for having such a hapless lot for a gang.

The Hogwarts' welcome feast started with its usual wham-shazzam of pomp: the insistent warnings about the Forest. the lively Sorting Hat ceremony, and the flourished announcement of the Prefects and Heads of House. Hermione Granger listened intently as Dumbledore coughed and began the salutation.

"Ah yes. Another year begins at Hogwarts." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled brightly. "Because of recent events, the faculty and I feel it is in everyone's best interests to cultivate strong relations between the four houses. I'm thereby placing the Heads of House and the Prefects in charge of planning several holiday masquerades this year. Why masquerades, you ask? An excellent question. We all wear a mask of some sort in our day-to-day lives—sometimes we wear many. So rather than hide behind our masks, we will proudly wear them to free ourselves of prejudice and fixed notions." Dumbledore's smile was a beacon of light and hope. However, the greater message behind his speech became muddled in a loud buzz of: "Did you hear?", "What will I wear?", and "Who are you going with?" humming from student to student through the Great Hall. Dumbledore patiently gave his audience a moment before he raised his hand, effectively quieting the commotion. "There's more, dear students, there's more." His snowy white moustache twitched mischievously.

"Oh, no… Here it comes…" Ron muttered caustically. Hermione shushed him with a loud glare.

Magically, a neat roll of parchment appeared on the tabletop at every student's place setting. Every student…except for Hermione Granger. She glanced around the Gryffindor table to see if anyone else was missing their parchment. Her eyebrows knit together in a confused frown. She shrugged helplessly when Harry gave her a quizzical, inquiring glance.

"This is a questionnaire of your personal likes, dislikes, and hobbies. Please complete it honestly. Houseelves will be around shortly to collect them." Dumbledore's words were met with a shocked silence. Everyone stared with narrowed eyes when Luna Lovegood let out a mercilessly loud sneeze that cut through the tense silence.

"Tonight, the Sorting Hat will examine each parchment and pair off suitable friendship matches from differing houses." Dumbledore continued. "Tomorrow morning, you will receive your chosen match by owl mail, along with further instructions. I advise you to take this assignment seriously. Ms. Granger? Mr. Malfoy? Will you please see me at the teacher's table?" He beckoned with a slight curl of his fingers. Hermione stared mutely for a second until Harry nudged her in the ribs.

"Go on, then. It's okay. Probably Head business…" He whispered with false assurance. A half-hearted, sorrowful excuse of a smile played on his lips. Hermione nodded and tried to hide how self-conscious she felt about having so many curious eyes goggling at her. The quick skittering of her gait contrasted with the assured ease of Malfoy's relaxed footsteps. She glanced over at him then resolutely kept her eyes on the floor until she made her way to the teacher's table.

"Yes, Professor?" Hermione smiled confidently, though the breathlessness of her voice betrayed her nervousness. Malfoy threw an amused smirk her way as Dumbledore began to speak. "Hogwarts' two smartest and brightest are probably wondering why they didn't receive a questionnaire. The Sorting Hat and I agree that no one needs to work more on their inter-house relations than you. Since you both are sharing quarters, you have the fantastic opportunity to complete the questions one-on-one. I'll send your parchments to your portrait this evening with a tray of hot cocoa and vanilla pound cake. Any questions?" Dumbledore smiled warmly. Hermione gaped at him while Malfoy tried to hide his amusement.

"No questions here, Professor. Thank you." Malfoy said smoothly.

"None from me." Hermione said with forced courage. Inside, she felt like wailing '_Noooooooooooo!' _and running away. Her heart missed a beat.

"Enjoy the night, dear Heads of House. When the feast ends, please see Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape. They'll show you to your portrait."

Hermione numbly mumbled her thanks and walked back to the Gryffindor table. Harry and Ron were digging into their food as if they hadn't eaten anything in years. Ron glanced up from his heaping full plate as Hermione sat down.

"Whuf huppind?" A piece of mashed potatoes shot from his over-stuffed mouth. His compassionat eyes shone nothing but concern.

"What happened? Dumbledore and the Hat paired me with Malfoy since we're the least compatible pair in the school. I don't even get to do the fun part of the assignment—the part where I fill out the questions and feverishly pray I don't get stuck with a Slytherin…" Hermione roughly buttered a steaming hot dinner roll. "Nope. It's straight to Slytherin for me…" She let her voice trail off.

"Oh, honey…" Ginny's voice dropped sympathetically. She reached across the table and reassuringly patted her bestfriend's hand. "I'm so sorry. You worked so hard to be Head Girl. It's supposed to be an honor, not a punishment! How exactly did Malfoy get Head Boy? Wasn't it supposed to be Eddie Merrick this year?" She strummed her fingernails anxiously on the tabletop.

"There was some miscalculation in grades and Edward was chosen by mistake. Malfoy's the true pick, apparently." Hermione explained with a shrug and a watery smile. She purposely kept her comments noncommittal to hide the chaotic emotions swirling in her heart. Ron and Harry would hex, curse, and jinx Malfoy to oblivion if they found out he had kissed her on the train. Hermione didn't want them to do something stupid and get expelled. Things were crazy, stressful, and confusing enough as far as Draco Malfoy was concerned! Hermione sighed, wanting the day to be over.

"C'mon! Don't be so gloomy, Hermione. Your patronus otter could dance circles around that nancing git Draco and his daft minions." Ron snorted, spearing a green bean with his fork.

"Hmm... a dancing patronus otter… What a great costume idea for the Halloween masquerade." Harry thoughtfully stroked his chin. "Do you think anyone will notice my scar?".

"Don't even try it, Potter." Ginny, seated across from Harry, lovingly kicked him from under the table. "If you dress up like a patronus, I'll have to dress up like a dementor so you can spend the evening chasing me around the Great Hall."

"Oh, the possibilities…" Harry grinned wolfishly.

"Ack! How can you guys make jokes now? All this lovey huggy inter-house rubbish is killing me! Yeah, it's important to try and be civil to each another, but I'm sure more than 3/4 of the Slytherin house is waving little flags that say "_Go You-Know-Who_!" or "_Yay Evil_!". They probably have a shrine to You-Know-Who in their dormitory--right next to the fiery pit where they sacrifice virgin girls and  
goats." Ron huffed, mussing his red hair.

"Nah, the goats aren't for sacrifice. They're for Malfoy's late night snog sessions." Harry quipped, puckering his lips and making kissie-kissie faces at Ginny. She rolled her eyes.

"I'm sure Hermione'll hear more than enough late-night bleating from Pansy Parkinson..." Ron grumbled into his goblet of pumpkin juice.

"Guys! Not something I want to think about while I'm eating..." Hermione said with polite sternness, interrupting the happy banter. She moodily pushed her peas around her plate. Stupid Pansy. A lot of girls at Hogwarts would give anything to be in her place. The Slytherin girl was clingier than taffy and had the brainpower of an old shoe…but she was the one Malfoy wanted at his side. Hermione huffed. Their relationship was perfect: Draco had a mindless bit of fluff to boss around and Pansy had a yummy piece of arm candy to show off wherever she went. They deserved one another! Not that Hermione was jealous… she just fiercely despised how Draco could pick Pansy for a girlfriend when there were so many other girls at Hogwarts with more beauty, personality and _brains_. Why was he so turned off by smart women? Hermione tore apart another innocent dinner roll. She kicked herself for thinking so much about Malfoy and his immature excuse for a romance.

"Oi oi! Hermione! McGonagall's waving at you. She looks more impatient than usual." Harry frowned slightly,taking a nibble from his treacle tart.

"Oh! I have to go see my new room." Hermione smiled. 'Wish me luck…"

"Go giffum heff." Ron said through a mouthful of cupcakes.

"Huh?" Hermione blinked.

"Go give 'em hell." Ginny rolled her eyes, translating. "Don't worry, Hermione. You are beautiful and Malfoy is a whiney little prat. Turn him into a pin cushion if he tries anything."

"And remember, the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team is on your side." Harry winked, referring to his captain status.

"Will do. Thanks so much, guys. I'll catch you later! Love love!" Hermione waved breathlessly. She pocketed an apple and an orange as she left the table.

"There's our Miss Granger." Minerva McGonagall affectionately patted Hermione's arms and regarded her with beaming content. "You've made your house proud." The older woman gave Hermione a brief but sincere hug. Hermione tensed at the very un-McGonagall-like display of affection.

"As have you, Mr. Malfoy. I expected no better than the best from a Slytherin." Snape and Draco exchanged haughty, egotistical smirks. Hermione guessed it was their evil way of making a pleasant greeting. Minerva sent Severus a withering look and straightened her features.

"Right this way, young Heads of Class. Professor Snape and I will show you to your quarters and set the ground rules for the coming school term."

Hermione stayed by McGonagall's side while Draco obediently followed Snape. The wandered through long, torch-lit corridors and came upon a stunningly large painting of a group of nude dryads dancing playfully in a moonlit forest glen. The full moon bathed the lush landscape in a surreal silver glow, while hundreds of fireflies twinkled on and off like winking stars.

"Ladies." Snape purred wryly. His tone betrayed his dry amusement. All but one of the girls giggled and scattered into the leafy foliage of the forest. Snape smirked. Draco snickered. Hermione silently cursed the stupidity of all men.

"Oh! Good evening professors and Heads of class!" A dryad laughed merrily and covered her nakedness with the curtain of her long cascading hair. "Password please?"

"Slytherin wins the Quidditch cup." Snape provided with a crooked smile. Hermione thought she noticed McGonagall's eye twitch as the portrait obediently swung open.

"As you can tell, students, Professor Snape and I are to take turns choosing the password for the week. This is so no funny business happens. I won't have anyone intentionally locked out of their own dormitory." Her eyes narrowed briefly at Draco. She patted her bun, composed herself, and continued. "On Friday, you and Draco will please see me for the new password. Any questions?"

"Yes, Professor." Hermione spoke up. "Would it be all right if I enchanted my door with some kind of protection charm? A door isn't as secure as a portrait. I need something more to feel safe."

"I am certain you will think of something special, Ms. Granger." The ambiguity of her answer was a clever _carte blanche _for Hermione.

"However, that 'something special' will not include hand-eating doorknobs or eye-gauging keyholes. Am I clear, Miss Granger?" Snape looked down his hooked nose at Hermione. His arms crossed menacingly over his chest.

"Perfectly, Professor." Hermione replied earnestly. Snape's nostrils flared at her insolent politeness.

"Such cheek! Twenty-five points from Gryffindor for—" He practically hissed acid at Hermione, but McGonagall deftly interrupted him with a demure cough. She glanced knowingly at him, as if she'd just caught a young boy with his hand in the cookie jar. Snape reined his temper and smiled tightly.

"Come, Severus. Escort a lady back to the Great Hall." McGonagall offered Snape a tartan-covered arm.

"My pleasure, Minerva." He stiltedly accented the syllables of her name as he hooked his arm around her elbow. "Don't forget to fill out your questionnaires, young Malfoy and young Granger." He tossed the comment over his darkly-clad shoulder.

Hermione and Draco were left standing side by side when the two professors left. She tenatively side-stepped away from him and walked over to the center of the common room where her luggage was stacked next to Malfoy's fleet of trunks. She knew house elves had brought them up sometime during the feast. Instead of going off into a rant about equality and worker's rights, Hermione said nothing. She'd freed several elves last year through underhanded means--tricking them into taking knitted hats while they cleaned the Gryffindor common room. Her heart was in the right place, but the elves had a horrible time adjusting to their freedom. They offered to work solely for Hermione under the condition she stop her sneaky elf-emancipating ways. She agreed, insisting on paying the three elves a weekly salary for their hard work. They didn't ask for much money, but Hermione made sure that Glint, Gleam, and Bella were well-fed and cared for. Smiling, Hermione bent down and scooped Crookshanks from his carrier.

"There's my little love. Are you hungry? Of course you are. That's a silly question to ask the great Crookshanks--infamous ravager of mice and vanilla cupcakes. Oof!" Hermione grunted, lifting his heavy weight. He purred lavishly in her arms. "Come on, let's explore our new room." She gently draped the beloved pet over her shoulder, casting the Wingardium Leviosa charm on her luggage. Hermione gave a dainty wave of her wand. The trunks levitated obediently as she stood pondering the two doors at the far end of the room. "Is it safe to assume my bedroom is the one with the gigantic Gryffindor banner draped over the door?" Hermione stopped suddenly and turned toward Malfoy.

"Are you talking to me or the cat?" He smirked at her unassuming face.

"To you, Malfoy." She spoke self-consciously over Crookshank's luxuriously loud purrs.

"Yeah, I think you can 'safely assume' that room is yours. It would be tricky to tell the difference between them at night, though. You wouldn't want to accidentally wander into the wrong bedroom...wearing something silky that slithers when you walk." Draco quirked an eyebrow as his eyes wandered the length of her body.

"Uh! Perv!" She shook her head in dignified disgust and shouldered past him to her room. Hermione's trunks followed, nearly knocking Draco off his feet as they flew in a neat line behind her. Her door slammed shut with a powerful magical force.


End file.
